


Hot Diggity Dog

by anoneknewmoose



Series: Food Puns [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Belly Kink, M/M, Podfic Welcome, Stuffing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 10:30:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1384252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoneknewmoose/pseuds/anoneknewmoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Superheroes have prodigious appetites.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Diggity Dog

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mwestbelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mwestbelle/gifts).



> Self-indulgent and un-beta'd. I was also too impatient to wait on my NYC experts' opinions. *jazzhands*
> 
> Fun fact: the world record for Nathan's Famous Hot Dog Eating Contest, in Brooklyn, NY, is approximately 15 pounds (6.8kg), or 69 HDB (hot dogs with buns).
> 
>  
> 
> WARNING: this fic contains unplanned for/unexpected stuffing fetish in an established relationship, without negotiation/discussion. There is also an instance of threatened violent possessiveness. Please let me know if I've missed any other warnings/tags.

The first time Bucky gets a boner while watching Steve eat is after a battle with a hydra. Not _HYDRA_ , Bucky can fight those jokers with his eyes closed, but an actual motherfucking hydra created by a mad genetic scientist with, apparently, access to loch ness monster DNA.

Swimming always had made Steve hungrier than anything else. Swimming to engage in battle with a monster in the Hudson River which sprouted a new head from any large wound was a special kind of exhaustion. Fucking mad scientists.

Team dinners after a battle are a Thing; something about shawarma, which as far as Bucky can tell is the Arabic version of a burrito. All Bucky knows is that Steve does not, _can not_ , consider a mission done with a capital D until everyone is eating under their own power. Once, he didn't sleep for three days until the harried S.H.I.E.L.D. doctors gave him permission to carry Clint down to the mess for bacon and eggs.

So Bucky's not surprised that the team has taken over a waterside hot dog bar, or that trays of the biggest hot dogs Bucky has ever seen are loading down the table until it's groaning and the manager looks terrified that it might not be enough.

But he _is_ fairly surprised to look across the table at Steve's exhausted face, brimming with the pride and joy of a well-fought battle in which no one was seriously hurt, and realize that his cock is half hard. It could just be Steve sitting there with the wetsuit version of his uniform peeled down low on his hips, hair wet and water droplets on his chest like a gay porno spread, and that's not even mentioning the heavily loaded chili cheese hot dog spreading Steve's mouth wide with every bite.

It could be that, and Bucky's willing to roll with that as an excuse.

Then Clint orders what he calls trash can nachos, and an actual metal trash can lid piled six inches deep with chips and cheese and a million other things is carried out.

"Jesus, Clint," Steve says. He laughs and shakes his head. "That's insane. But man, how great would that be with a pitcher of beer at a ball game?" He reaches out and scoops up a handful of chips, and toppings fall all over the table, Steve's chest, and Steve's face.

"Dammit," Steve says, before licking cheese sauce off his palm and between his fingers.

And then Bucky's cock throbs, and he turns to hide his face in Natasha's shoulder. She pats his head and Bucky has a sinking feeling she knows he's resisting the urge to crawl under the table and suck Steve off.

Fuck, _why_ though? Steve's gorgeous, sure, but it's not the pseudo-sexual motions of eating messy food. Or at least, not just that.

His brain pings on the thought of all that food settling into Steve's gut and he realizes he can _see_ it. Steve's abdominal muscles are fantastically flexible, and every pound of ground meat bulges them further. Bucky is used to both of them eating through mountains of food every day, what with the demands of their respective serums and physical demands of their jobs, but he's never seen this before. He's never seen Steve happily half naked and relaxed, steadily eating to replenish calories and send protein to healing muscles.

Steve's a marvel and he's gorgeous and Bucky wants to crawl on top of him. He wants to feed Steve with his own hand and feel his belly growing between his thighs. His right hand twitches with the desire to wrap around Steve's throat, stroke gently and encourage him to swallow like a fucking kitten.

Bucky jerks. He mumbles something about hitting the john and slips away.

The problem with being a member of a family of super spies, geniuses, and scientifically enhanced tacticians, though, is that _nothing_ goes unnoticed. Bucky has just enough time to splash cold water on his face and give himself a stern talking to before the door opens behind him.

"Bucky?" Steve's voice is light and happy, thank God, not worried. Bucky is so sick of hearing his name in Steve's 'I'm concerned for you' voice. Steve's hands slide over Bucky's hips and tug gently, and Bucky huffs and leans back into his broad chest.

"I'm fine," Bucky says.

"Needed a break from people?" Steve asks. He hooks his chin over Bucky's shoulder, then starts laughing in a way that makes Bucky's cheeks heat. "Oh, _I_ see."

"Shut up, you're an asshole," Bucky huffs. It loses something when he's busy arching into Steve's hand sliding into his wetsuit, wrapping around his cock.

"Little late for adrenaline boners, isn't it?" Steve chuckles into Bucky's ear. The rotten bastard rubs right under the head of his cock and Bucky moans, twisting to muffle it in Steve's neck.

"Ungh. It was you, fucker, you and your belly." Bucky can feel it, huge behind him, filling the curve of his lower back.

"My _belly_?" Steve asks, voice queer and body stiff, and Bucky should turn around and face him, but he can't. His mouth is running, and he can't stop it, and he can't look at Steve's face while he's saying this shit.

"God, yeah," Bucky groans. "Wanted to crawl under the table and kiss it, suck you off while you eat dessert." 

Bucky's knees damn near buckle with relief when Steve moans into his ear and pushes closer. With Steve's hand pulling his cock, Bucky ends up on his toes, sink digging into his thighs painfully because Steve's gut is taking up all the free space in the room, forcing Bucky to bend and mold around Steve's body. 

"You dirty fucker," Steve says, but his voice has that growl it gets when he's really fucking horny. "You want me to eat an ice cream sundae on top of better than fourteen pounds of hot dog _and_ let you perv on it?"

" _Yeah_ ," Bucky groans. He makes the mistake of looking in the mirror and fuck, they look filthy. _He_ looks filthy, wanton like a boy getting his first handjob. He's not a small guy but Steve's bulk dwarfs him, makes a golden shadow around him. His cock is hard and leaking, smoothing the slide Steve's hand over him as Steve slowly jerks him. "Jesus Christ Almighty, Steve, you're killing me." 

"And you're fucking loud," Steve says. He snorts, biting at Bucky's neck because he knows fucking well that makes Bucky whimper. "I bet even Tony can hear you, and he's as human as they come."

"Oh my God, do not mention Tony while we're fucking." Bucky writhes and twists, pushing Steve against the wall, and can't resist half-climbing him, throwing one thigh around Steve's side. Steve's just so fucking huge, belly hot and round and firm and perfect for thrusting against. He growls and bites into the meat of Steve's shoulder for emphasis. 

"Fuck. All right, I'm sorry." Steve sounds satisfyingly strangled so Bucky releases him and slides to his knees. He has to pull hard to haul Steve's suit low enough that his cock can be freed; it's heavy and thick, and Bucky has to reach in and lift it out of the neoprene.

"God, look at you," Bucky says. Steve's belly is huge above him, filling Bucky's sightline, and there is no reason on God's green earth that should be so hot but it _is_. It feeds into the familiar arousal Steve's cock brings him and desire spirals tight in his gut. He presses his face into the hollow of Steve's hip, panting, and between the flesh from above and Steve's cock, he's surrounded in the scent of sun and Old Spice and sweat.

"Look at me," Steve agrees lazily. He shifts, spreading his legs wider to brace against the wall, then takes his cock in hand to rub it over Bucky's face and adds, "they all know what we're doing in here by now, you know."

"They knew that as soon as you walked in here after me," Bucky says, snorting. He makes a face and wraps his hand around Steve's on his dick to still him. "And I'm _gonna_ blow you, you don't have to fucking mark your territory."

"Yeah. I just like to," Steve says. Bucky can hear the smirk in his voice, the asshole, and he flips him off, resting his extended metal middle finger on the rise of Steve's gut even as he stretches his mouth around Steve's cock.

It's good, so fucking good. It's the joy in life after a hard-fought battle and his new found passion for Steve's engorged body, Steve's cock filling him up and Steve's little gasps above him as he tries to stay quiet. He grabs Bucky's hand and holds it close, joining them together as their hands stroke his cock.

They both know, by now, how to get each other off in every manner of speaking. This, fast and dirty and unrepentant, revelling in the indulgence of being whoever the fuck they want to be at the moment, has long been Bucky's favorite.

Being able to feel the presence of Steve's belly above him, the weight of it pushing into Bucky's space, is even better.

Steve moves, stretching Bucky's arm up and curling over so he can stuff Bucky's metal fingers deep in his mouth. A metal gag does jack shit to muffle noise, but he can feel the pressure of Steve's teeth and tongue. Bucky's cock jerks and he moans around Steve, swallowing and sucking for all he's worth while his bio hand works the shaft.

Steve can be a monster to get off, and Bucky loves to tease him that he'll never be able to cheat because only a superhero could keep up with him and everyone in their world has heard stories about the Winter Soldier. But he also loves fucking in semi-public spaces and loves hearing how much Bucky is into him. Between the two, Bucky's not surprised that he comes hard and fast, just a harder bite around Bucky's cybernetic joints as a warning.

Bucky doesn't, can't, wait after that. He's still working on swallowing as he swarms back up Steve's body to kiss him. He blindly trusts Steve will hold him, because there's no room in his mind for mundane things like balance and not getting a concussion when Steve's belly is gurgling between his thighs. He's already digesting; Bucky's pretty sure they could go back out and Steve could eat another dozen hot dogs and still be able to walk home. He'd be glutted and bloated, unrecognizable as Captain America. 

Bucky comes at the thought of Steve sprawled on their oversized couch with an ice cream sundae balanced on that giant fucking mountain of gut.


End file.
